


Post Depression Vent

by Anonymous



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:06:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27975564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Just... using MC as a place to vent. And the brother's as billboards to do it without having to hurt anyone. All self reflection, none of it happy.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21
Collections: Anonymous





	Post Depression Vent

**Author's Note:**

> So this really is just venting out some of my feelings... things I've been only just about to express in therapy, or thing's I worry about telling friends, for uhhh some reasons that might be obvious in the post lol. Idk sorry to fill the obey me tag with some depressing nonsense.

MC sat with a book in their lap, rereading the first line over and over. The day was wrong. They'd woken up, and everything had felt... of kilter. Everything they could perceive as a slight, they did. And the slights seemed to build up, until it was 4pm in the library and they were at their limit.

Satan had given them a new book recommendation, and it just wasn't catching. Perhaps this was a slight as well? Giving them a book with tropes they actually hated, promising it'd be a good read. Satan wouldn't be the first to make this mistake, hell, the more they got inside their head, the more they figured this might be their own fault. 

Seven, no- twelve especially vibrant personalities were constantly humming around them. Instinctually, they'd pulled back their own personality. Of course. Their own personality was so warped anyway, they couldn't handle how it'd clash with everyone else's. They'd be crushed if they interrupted Leviathan's rants with one of their own, can easily imagine all the horrible ways that would go. Or letting Asmodeus find out that the secret to the "looks" he so often praised was just the basics of "don't let people find out you're depressed". In fact, they were moderately certain he was only saying they looked good. There's no way to actually believe that when he claims his standards were so high. Yet, when they were up high, they believed it so fully...

The other brother's would be upset too. They stop this train of thought yet again and start from the top of the page, forgetting what their eyes had just skimmed over. Yet... right now was some of the most quiet they had. Looking inward was supposed to be good. For example, they took this time to look inward and recognized they'd picked up their "coward" personality, as they called it, where they absorb as much information as possible to ascertain their safety. Usually, this only lasted a month, but there were so many shenanigans... every time they felt ready to put it down, another conversation came up where they felt insecure. Unsure.

These two trains of thought rotate through their mind over and over, only interrupted when a very pretty demon sat across from them, resting his elbows on the table so he could plate his hands to rest his head on. The movement startled them from their rut, eyes finally leaving the page (freedom at least,) to look at him.

Asmo let out a huff of air and placed his hand over MC's book. "You look completely lost, is everything alright?"

Ah, shoot, was it showing? Okay, well... they could at least cover this. Make them look "human".

"I just woke up weird today. I'll be fine." 

Then an idea hit them, one they were pretty certain would be self flagellation, but... they were tired from holding their harmful thoughts back all day, and before they knew it it tumbled from their mouth.

"Hey Asmo, what do you know about me?"

The question caught him by surprise, but he didn't seem to catch the underlying seriousness of it. One day, maybe MC'd learn to be better about their tone... or maybe people would get smarter. They thought they did tone okay.

"Well let's see, you're MC... you're a human, you like wearing boots instead of shoes, and you're a very dear friend." 

Well that was well and good, but ... not very personal, their face must've twisted at his answer, because he leaned forward more.

"Maybe you and I should get to know each other more...? We can have a nice spa in my room and trade questions."

Considering MC could list five times the amount of facts that Asmo had listed about them, that didn't sound like an even trade off anyway. They shook their head.

"I was just wondering... I'm just thinking about things. Sorry."

Asmo gently patted their hand comfortingly, and nodded, before delving into talking about the gossip he'd witnessed before arriving. Part of them was relieved for a distraction, the other part frustrated.

They knew they should never expect anyone to play puzzle games with them, or be expected to realize when things were truly wrong, or to make an effort to help... but they couldn't help but wish for it. It'd be nice, someone just realizing they felt underappreciated as a person, and doing something unprompted. Besides, here in the Devildom... they had none of their support systems. So reaching out to ask for help sounded a lot harder than it had any right to.

Answering Asmo with probing questions and reactions, they couldn't help but be annoyed by their own mask. After so many years wearing it, it was also holding them back from getting any true help. No one's going to swing in asking what's wrong with this smile on their face, no matter how fake it may be. They've perfected the fake smile. Their laugh took no effort to fake, it was as simple as laughing. 

They took a moment to muse to themselves that if only the last decade had trained them to be this good, how hard it must be for Satan to remove the mask he puts on. After millennia, does it start to feel like a second skin? They hoped to never find out.

"Oh, Asmo... I had something else I needed to do today. I forgot to go grab my ... things. I'll see you at home, okay?" Waving them off, MC cussed at themselves. There they were, being to private again, meaning no one would get to know them. If people can't even list off their interests or anything about them, how would anyone ever truly care about them. They could've just said they were going out to buy a copy of a new game from their favorite series. 

Maybe they were too sensitive for their own good. Leviathan's tastes were different, so he didn't have an interest in the series, and he often got into his own interests and head to listen to them express why the series was good and why they liked it. They understood... it wasn't for everyone. The last thing MC wanted was for Leviathan to feel like he had to invest time into a game he knew he wouldn't like just for them. That'd feel... even worse.

Then the rest, they definitely wouldn't like the game, or know it. Explaining the series to someone who didn't know it and wouldn't like it... was emotionally exhausting. MC had done it enough times to know it wasn't worth it- their disinterest would peak quickly, before they'd finished their heartfelt feelings about the game. 

People didn't often like them when they were like that, passionate and open. So instead, they just kept it to themselves.

Luckily people at stores don't ask those kinds of things of patrons, so MC picked up their game and hurried home before anyone could realize they went out on their own with no escort. 

Scurrying into their room, they let themselves have a moment of indulgence, turning up the volume as they put the game into the machine. Then, sitting and looking at the title screen quietly, sad to play the game by themselves for the first time in a decade. Maybe if they'd been braver and reached out, someone would have... but the fear of disinterest was too strong. 

Maybe they were the reason for all their problems. MC could try to brush it under the rug as they hit play, but at the end of the day they knew that the only one who cared, knew, or could fix the fact that they were hurting was them. But all they had was a band aid, and the wounds they had were from a lifetime of war. 

They couldn't imagine Demons were anymore generous with compassion than humans were, anyway. Even with thousands of years under their belt, could they really bring themselves to understand the hellscape of one humans mind, or care.


End file.
